


Clearly

by rocketshoes



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: AU: chimera who?, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Even A Little, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Not canon-compliant, Not even once, Tati and Cynthia are only mentioned, and this is five years later, its not nearly as sad as the title probably makes you feel, left - Freeform, owen doesn’t die, owen just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 06:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19371448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketshoes/pseuds/rocketshoes
Summary: five years after Owen’s quiet disappearance from the agency, Curt and Owen re-connect. Curt tries to get Owen to open up, which goes about as well as you’d expect.





	Clearly

**Author's Note:**

> the basic plot of this story popped into my head, completely characterless, until i realized that it worked pretty well for Curt and Owen. i,, have never written fanfic before but here is the final product so enjoy i guess

“Owen?” i ask my former partner, finding myself unable to go any longer without knowing the truth. “why did you leave?” 

Owen sighs, staring into the algae covered lake before us. it feels like it was just yesterday we were blowing up buildings and getting yelled at by Cynthia. i miss it all. i was known to live for the action, but admittedly, the things i miss most are the quiet, peaceful moments we shared. when Owen and i were in-between assignments and stayed at a safehouse near the agency or when we celebrated a completed mission with drinks. when we were alone together, time was fluid. sometimes i found myself forgetting about everyone else, about the agency entirely, just getting lost in the presence of him. “i’ve told you a thousand times, Curt.” Owen’s suave British accent sounds as condescending as ever but it has a certain tiredness to it that i’m not used to. 

“Owen, Cynthia would have traded me in for you any day of the week. you really still expect me to believe she encouraged you to quit?” 

“yes.” he gives me a sideways glance, sensing my dubiousness. “no. i don’t know.” he sighs again, running a hand through his dark hair. it’s shorter now, but i don’t think he’s quite used to it. “fine. here.” he sits on a bench a few feet away, gesturing for me to join him. i do. “thats part of the truth.” 

“only part?” 

he nods. “i got a call not long after the Prussia mission. it was from MI6, telling me to come home. apparently some powerful friends of the director had caught wind of me working with you Americans and, i don’t know, thought i was planning to leave MI6 to work for Cynthia.” 

“but that’s treason.” 

Owen rolls his eyes. “i believe that was the point, Curt. so, i talked to Cynthia and she used some... choice words to express her frustration, but ultimately advised me to go settle the issue with the director and come back when my job was secure again.” 

i nod. this added context makes much more sense. “but... you never came back.” i turn to look at him. he looks tired. “why?” 

“for one, the director stopped trusting me. i couldn’t risk losing my job by crossing the pond again.” 

“and for two?” 

he looks at his shoes. “i didn’t see a point. you didn’t need me anymore.” 

‘you’? does he mean me or the agency? either way he’s wrong. i’ve never needed him more. 

“was that humility i heard?” i ask, pushing away the useless thoughts forming in my brain. he playfully shoves me away. i see the beginnings of a smile, his old smile, before it falls flat again. 

“plus, you were... a little preoccupied.”

“what?” 

he looks at me in a way that tells me i’m supposed to know what he means. that’s a look i recognize. it used to be hurtful but now i’m just glad to see he’s not an entirely different person. “with Tatiana? in the weeks before i left you started blushing and stuttering every time she entered the room.” he pauses, then speaks again like he’s trying very hard not to sound bitter. “how are things with you two, by the way?” 

so he thinks i’m with Tatiana. does he like her? that would explain why he started hating me when i befriended her. “what? that’s ridiculous. Owen, why didn’t you tell me? i could’ve helped you.” 

“of course you could have, Curt. you could have swooped in and taken out the bad guys and blown up the building for good measure. that would’ve really helped the director view your agency as an ally.” 

“hey, where is this coming from? you don’t have to be such a-” i stop, try again. “i could have been there for you. supported you.” i sound pathetic, but i can’t help it. “i at least deserved to know the truth.” 

“why? because you’re Curt Mega and you deserve everything? the goings on in the private business of a former colleague, the female spy of your dreams?” 

former colleague? is that all we are, in his eyes? “Owen, i’m not dating Tatiana.” 

he looks at me, hard. “you’re not?” 

i perk up. if that really is the issue, maybe things can go back to the way they were. even if that’s not all i want... i’d rather have him as a friend than lose him forever. “no! is that why you’re mad at me? you like Tati?” 

Owen puts his head in his hands. i guess i said the wrong thing. “go away, Curt.” 

what does he want? why is nothing i say right? have i embarrassed him? that doesn’t seem like a very Owen-y reaction to have, although he clearly isn’t the same Owen i worked with all those years ago. i don’t understand why we’re on such different pages. we worked together for years, we faced challenges together and destroyed empires together. we were an unbeatable team, and inseparable, too. in fact, there were times i went as far as to believe that maybe, just maybe, the connection i felt between us wasn’t entirely one-sided. that i wasn’t dreaming when i imagined him caring for me. but any shred of hope has since diminished, having been crushed by Owen’s coldness during this interaction, if not by the years of separation that preceded it. 

i figure i should heed his request (or is it a warning?), but maybe i should settle the whole thing once and for all. whether it’s a final attempt to cheer Owen up or the first one to save Tati’s dignity, i couldn’t tell you. “Owen. i’ll go. but, you should know...” 

he looks up at me, eyes red-rimmed and angry. “what is it, Mega?” 

“Owen, i-“ i let out a sigh. i can’t tell him. i can never tell him, but a part of me needs to give him a hint, even if it means nothing to him. i can’t let it go. “Tatiana was never the one i was interested in.” I walk away without taking another look at Owen’s face. 

—-

i get halfway through the marsh next to the lake before i hear Owen calling after me. he’s yelling but i’m facing away from him and can’t make out his words. 

“what?” i look over my shoulder, still walking in the general direction of the van. i see Owen now, about twenty feet away from me. he looks pissed. i walk faster. 

“‘Tatiana wasn’t the one you’re interested in? what does that mean?” 

i roll my eyes. “it means she’s all yours,” i call back. 

“she ‘wasn’t the one,’” Owen starts, ignoring my response, “that implies you fancied someone else. who?” 

“why do you care?” it’s a chore not to let my voice crack. i can’t show any weakness, any vulnerability. 

“why do i care?” Owen roars. i hear a metallic sound and turn to find Owen unsheathing his sword. why do we even have those??

“Owen...” i keep my wide eyes on him, walking backwards away from him. “what are you doing?” 

he starts running towards me and i flinch back in terror until i realize he missed. 

“Owen, what the fuck?” i stare at him, my eyes wide and scared. he’s been angry at me before but he’s never tried to kill me. im lucky he’s wildly out of practice. he starts toward me again. i try to run to the van, but as a tree thunders to the ground right in front of me, i realize that i was never his target. i’m trapped. 

“you mean to tell me,” Owen begins, “that every time you tripped over your words or tried to be funny, it was not to impress Tatiana?” 

“no! how many ways do i have to say it? i wasn’t into her! never was, never will be. just fucking ask her out or something, you don’t have to get me out of the way!”

Owen lurches forward and i take out my own sword just in time to block him. he grunts in frustration. “I don’t want her, Curt!”

“what are you talking about? you always acted so jealous when Tati and i hung out.”

“i wasn’t jealous of you, you idiot!” he swings his sword at me, narrowly missing my chest. 

who else is there to be jealous of? “i don’t get it!” 

“you never get it!” 

i swing my blade so it pushes against his, anger and adrenaline and pain providing me with the strength to hold him there. “no, Owen, i don’t. i didn’t get it when you took off without saying goodbye. i didn’t get it when you lied to me about why. i didn’t get it when you undermined all the time we spent together by assuring me your departure was ‘no big deal.’ and no, i don’t get why when i tell you you can have the person you’ve been pining after for a decade you decide you want me dead!” something within me shifts, and suddenly i see no consequence to confession. he’s inevitably going to best me; i might as well get this off my chest. “you were the one i wanted.” i take a deep breath. “the person you want is available. only one of us will ever get this chance, Owen. fucking take it.” 

something softens in his eyes before they fill with determination. with a sudden flick of his blade, he sends my sword flying away from me, leaving me defenseless. he prepares for the attack and i close my eyes, silently readying myself for death. there’s no hope now. 

time seems to slow, and i wonder about what death feels like. i imagine mine will be rather painful. an abdominal stab wound or a lethal cut in the neck, probably. i’ve been cut by a blade before, and i’m ready for that, but i’ve never been physically hurt by somebody i love. i hesitate at that thought. love. how unfortunate that we so often ask ourselves the important questions just before we’re rendered unable to answer them. am i in love with Owen Carvour? and also, am i in love with the man who is about to murder me? before i consider my answers, however, i am pulled out of my daze by the sensation of my demise: Owen’s lips pressed firmly against my own. 

he kisses me with fervor and passion and it’s exactly how i imagined kissing Owen would be (he’s showing off and insisting he’s better than me and proving himself right), but i pull away, certain he’s made a functional error. i fully expect him to remove his face from mine, rub the back of his neck, and say “oops, sorry. wrong conditioned response” before slicing off my head. 

instead he leans his forehead against mine, reaches up to caress my cheek, and whispers an explanation. “all those times i got upset... i was jealous of her, Curt. i was in love with you. i am.”

i shake my head, tears filling my eyes. this can’t be right. Owen can’t be in love with me. “what?”

“it was always you.” 

“then why did you leave?” 

“you started partnering with Tatiana... i started feeling out of place, unneeded.” 

“why did you just attack me?” 

“i was trying to stop you from leaving, but i think-“ he looks behind me at the tree he violently slashed down and lets out a little nervous chuckle, “i may have gone overboard. i’m sorry. i needed to make sure you were saying what i thought you were saying.” 

when i speak again, my voice cracks. “why didn’t you say anything?” tears spill down my face, and Owen wipes them away with his thumb. 

“i couldn’t, love. you know that. the consequences would’ve been too great.” i nod, looking at the ground. “i couldn’t,” he repeats. 

“Owen..” i look up at him, right into his beautiful brown eyes. “do you know how long i’ve been wishing for this to happen?” 

he lets out a little laugh, tears running down his face. it’s the kind of laugh that frees you, lets you go after being so unsure for so long. “i love you, Curt. i’m so sorry that it all happened like this.” 

“it’s alright,” i whisper. “i’m sorry too.” 

Owen looks into my eyes, reaching up to hold my neck. “im really trying, and i’ll keep trying, Curt, but i’m- i’ve never been good at love.” 

i giggle, finally feeling like things are okay. “clearly.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please comment any thoughts/questions/criticisms and have a wonderful day. 
> 
> my tumblr is @hey-thats-his-cigar in case you’d like to talk about SAF/starkid/any of our overlapping interests!


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